


these boots were made for ... walking

by stars_on_the_ceiling



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Undernegotiated Kink, improper use of boots, red boots - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 11:55:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15485199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stars_on_the_ceiling/pseuds/stars_on_the_ceiling
Summary: Nick wears thigh-high red leather boots and Louis can't be blamed for his actions.





	these boots were made for ... walking

**Author's Note:**

> um this took a turn for the filthy. soz?

The problem was the boots. Louis would have been fine if not for the boots. They were red and high-heeled and made of some kind of material Louis wanted to lick. They ended mid-thigh, and were paired with cut-off jean shorts that gave just enough of a glimpse of well-toned legs that Louis wanted to cry with it, wanted to get down on his knees with it. 

But really, the problem wasn’t the boots per se. The problem was that they were being worn by Nick fucking Grimshaw. And Louis was flushed hot, his skin itchy in places just out of reach, as he watched Grimshaw on stage, swinging that pert little ass of his in those well-fitted jeans. 

It was a party, though, and so it was easy to avoid people. Louis found a dark corner and mostly boring conversation, or boring enough that the heat in his chest, in his pelvis, in his thighs started to relent. Still, Louis kept an eye on Grimshaw. To be able to dodge him if needed, he told himself, even as his gaze dipped over and over and over again to that exposed flesh that was on the verge of being consumed by red leather. 

Grimmy was working the room, everyone’s attention on him just as he liked it. He threw his back and laughed too loud, too obvious to be real, and Louis wanted to poke him in the ribs, tell him to fucking stop it. Because when Nick was actually amused, his eyes crinkled and his mouth tugged down and he squared up to whoever had the audacity to make him happy and mouthed off in some kind of way. Louis knew, because Louis could make it happen. 

Or he had once. Just once. It was when his single had been released, and the powers that be had arranged for him to do a special with Nick. They’d spent the day together, the two of them and an entire camera crew and a production crew and both of their agents and Louis’ hairstylists. And still sometimes it had felt like it was just them, Louis kind of making Nick laugh. Or at least making him want to laugh in that way he tried to hide.

It had been the first time they’d really spent longer than five minutes brushing by each other at industry events. Louis was sure Nick thought him a brat, and Nick had probably thought Louis considered him a pretentious twat. Which wasn’t necessarily untrue. It was just that Nick was a pretentious twat with a really nice jawline. And long legs. And a torso Louis wanted to explore with his mouth and his teeth. 

And he was pretty sure if he said any of that, Nick would have had an aneurysm. So he’d stuck with teasing, because that’s what he knew how to do, and Nick had watching him at the end of the day, when they’d stood on a stupid roof top to see the sun set, and there had been something in his eyes that Louis ducked his head away from. The moment had broken when the director called a wrap and Louis nodded at Nick without meeting his watchful gaze, had sidestepped when Nick had started mumbling about phone numbers and getting in touch when Louis was in town. 

Nick had taken the brush-off like expected. He probably thought he’d imagined the way Louis had glanced at him beneath his lashes, as if it wasn’t his practiced move when in dark clubs where he was sure no one had any cameras pointed at him. Nick probably thought he’d imagined the way Louis had brushed close to him, letting their arms press into each other as they stood at the stone barrier of that roof. He probably thought he’d imagined the way Louis’ eyes had dropped to his lips, time and again. 

Because Louis hadn’t seen Nick since. And it had been two months with nothing. Silence. Louis knew he had no one but himself to blame, but he couldn’t ignore the pang in his belly. 

So now he was stuck at this stupid industry party and Nick was wearing stupid fucking red boots that Louis had never realized was a kink he was into until now, and Nick was sweat-slicked and happy-drunk, his curls sticking to his forehead. 

But most of all he was gleaming, golden. Magnetic. 

The problem was the bar. Or the problem was Louis was drinking too fast and had to make too many trips to it and really there was only one of them. So the problem was the party, and the fact that they hadn’t made sure there was a way to avoid charming Nick Grimshaws who were also apparently drinking too fast and visiting the bar too often as well. 

“Louis Tomlinson,” Nick said as he landed, forearms first onto the bar, right next to Louis. He smelled of expensive cologne, musky with spice. Louis wanted to lean into it, let the scent wrap around his shoulders. 

“Nicholas,” Louis said instead of any other thought skidding along the inside of his skull. 

“D’ya like mah boots?” Nick cackled as he held up one of his legs, a can-can interrupted. 

“Hmm,” Louis hummed, feeling like that was the safe answer. Non-committal was the way to go. It kept him safe, it kept him from eyeing that long, length of muscle that bunched and flexed beneath frayed denim. 

Nick rolled his eyes and waved down the bartender. Once he ordered his drink, he glanced at Louis from his peripheral. “Should have known you’d be no fun, Tomlinson.”

It was a jibe, with a nasty accusation underneath. Louis couldn’t handle a gay man in outrageous heeled boots. That was what Nick was saying. 

The unprovoked right hook lit a fire in his belly that felt a lot like the way whiskey sat on an empty stomach. 

Louis glanced around. Most of the people in the near vicinity were friends of either him or Nick. The ones who weren’t, weren’t paying attention.

He took a breath, because fuck it. He blamed the boots. 

Stepping closer so that he was pressed up against Nick’s side where he was bent over the bar, he leaned in close enough so that his mouth was just a breath away from Nick’s ear. He let his fingers find the hem of the jean shorts, and then tucked them under the fabric, running the tips along the crease between Nick’s thigh and his ass. 

“Actually I’ve been thinking about how much I want to suck your cock when you’re wearing nothing but these boots,” Louis murmured, low and full of promise, his tongue dipping to trace the curve of Nick’s ear, before retreating.

Nick tensed, his whole body going stiff, and Louis’ courage was gone, a match lit and then burnt out just as quickly. 

“Fuck, sorry,” he said, before dropping to his heels, turning, and slipping between the couple to his right to fade out of sight. 

He was blinking too fast as he made his way through the crowded room, desperate for privacy to sink into his humiliation. He had no idea what had prompted his insanity, but he knew he would pay for it. The boots. The goddamn boots. 

But it wasn’t really them. It was the way he’d known Nick was putting on a show, it was the way he wanted to strip him bare and see the real him instead. The one he’d seen sharing chips on that stupid rooftop surrounded by lights and people and expectations. Nick had somehow made it seem private anyway. 

Louis stumbled into the dark hallway groping for the door handle of one of the loos. The second one turned easily in his hand, and he stepped into the single stall that was more a nice little room than anything else.

He was just about to lock the door when it swung open enough to let Nick fucking Grimshaw step inside.

“What the fuck Louis?” Nick asked even as he threw the deadbolt. “What the fuck?”

“Go away.” Louis turned so that if worst came to worst and tears actually manifested into something more than a threat Nick wouldn’t be able to see them. 

“Absolutely not,” Nick said, and Louis was surrounded by that intoxicating scent. Sweat, and cologne and Nick. He wanted to bury his face in the damp crook of Nick’s neck, inhale it, inhale him. “Was that a fucking joke?”

A wet laugh escaped Louis’ mouth before he could swallow it. “A joke?”

“Because I’m not sure what else to think, Louis,” Nick's tone gentled at Louis' disbelief. “I thought … You don’t like me.”

“Who said that?”

Nick snorted, a soft exhale. “Every interaction we’ve had where you’ve either busted my balls or run away from me.”

Louis took a breath, let his rib cage expand, thought about the bones shifting to accommodate his lungs. Then he turned around. 

He found Nick watching him, his hair slicked back, messy and damp from fingers and frustration and dancing. His face was soft, though, and he was looking at Louis like … like maybe he didn’t think Louis was ridiculous. 

Louis chest hurt with the way Nick was looking at him. 

“Not that one time.” The special that had felt too much like a really fucking good date.

Nick tilted his head, then it seemed to click. “Oh, love.”

Chewing on his lip and staring at Nick’s chest hair that curled at the deep v of his shirt, Louis shrugged. “That was dead nice.”

“Dead nice, darling,” Nick agreed. He hesitated a moment, but then seemed to make a decision and reached out for Louis’ wrist. His thumb pressed into Louis’ pulse where it beat too fast against his skin. “Alright?”

“Feel stupid,” Louis mumbled, his eyes still on Nick’s chest. But he shifted closer, gave into the easy pull of Nick’s huge hand. When Nick felt him give, he just tugged harder, until Louis was where he’d wanted to be all night, pressed up against Nick’s over-warm chest, sinking into his scent, breathing him in. 

"Please don't," Nick whispered against Louis' hair. "Because I don't want you to feel stupid about this." Nick’s hand was on his wrist still, but the other was on his back, rubbing up and down until it paused just at the hem of Louis’ t-shirt.

The fingers paused, for a moment, then slipped under the fabric, so that the pads of Nick’s fingers rested along Louis’ spine. 

His breath caught on the wrong side of his windpipe, as they both held completely still, knowing they were about to cross some line they could never come back from. 

Louis own hand was pressed to the tops of the red boots, the leather sticky against his palm. And he knew he stood no chance of resisting this. 

So he stood on his toes, nudged his face up against Nick’s until their lips crashed together. It was sloppy and wrong at first, but then they both shifted, and everything was right. Nick pressed his whole palm against the small of Louis’ back fitting them together, as his tongue slipped into Louis mouth. 

It was hot and sexy and sweet and too much and not enough at the same time. Nick’s hands were on Louis’ ass, one shoved beneath the fabric of his tight jeans so that his thumb dug into the crevice between Louis’ cheeks, the other cupping Louis’ thigh where it was hitched up around Nick’s leg. 

Lous whimpered rubbing himself against Nick’s hip, desperate for more friction even as Nick dipped further into his ass, his finger brushing against Louis’ hole. “Nick, nick.”

Nick’s name on his lips was perilously close to begging but Louis' couldn’t help it. All he could feel was Nick, his chest, his sweat, his fingers, his hard cock pressed into Louis’ belly. 

“I’ve got you babe,” Nick said, his words slurred, his mouth bruised and plump from Louis’ lips. The sight of them, the sight of the flush climbing up Nick’s neck was too much. 

Louis remembered his pledge in the bar and dropped to his knees, ignoring Nick’s soft “fuck” as the movement dislodged his hands from Louis’ pants. Louis mourned the loss, but focused on working open the zipper of Nick’s tiny jean shorts, kissing the exposed skin between the boots and the edge of the fabric as he did. When he reached the most tender, softest part of Nick’s thigh, he bit down and sucked. Nick’s hips jumped, his fingers digging into Louis’ hair. 

“Christ, Lou,” Nick said, slamming back against the door. Anyone waiting outside would know what was happening and the thought only sent heat through Louis’ belly. He was already impossibly turned on, so fucking hard it was almost painful, but right now he was concentrating on Nick. 

When his shaking hands finally got Nick’s zipper down, he sighed in relief, letting the shorts drop. Nick had shucked off his t-shirt sometime after Louis had sunk to the floor, and Louis almost came on the spot at the sight of him, long, lean and completely naked except for the boots. 

Louis’ hips humped the air and Nick’s greedy eyes followed the movement, his pupils blown. “Come on, baby,” he murmured, the hand in Louis’ hair guiding him to his thick, flushed cock. Louis licked his lips and then devoured it in one go, hungry to feel the weight of it against his tongue. He moaned the minute Nick's cock slipped into his mouth.

“Look at me, baby,” Nick said, and Louis immediately turned his gaze on him. Nick pushed deeper and Louis tried to relax even as tears gathered in his eyes and his jaw protested. He loved it though, fucking loved it. 

Nick pressed his thumb against Louis’ cheek until he must have been able to feel himself and Louis whimpered with the idea that he was so fucking full of Nick, that the awe on Nick’s face was because of him. 

“Get yourself off, baby,” Nick said gently, sliding in even further. Louis’s hand went to his own cock, eager to relieve some of the aching pressure there. But Nick just shook his head. “Not like that. The boots.”

Arousal and humiliation flashed hot against his cheeks, but he couldn’t stop his body from reacting. His hips were eager, shifting forward until his sensitive, hot cock touched leather. The boots. The fucking boots. 

He humped against Nick’s leg, desperate and wanton, as Nick fucked his mouth, gentle in contrast to Louis’ animalistic writhing. He was whimpering with it, the idea that he was so far gone that he was getting off to this, to his mouth being fucked as he humped Nick's thigh high boots. 

“So fucking hot, holy god, so fucking hot baby,” Nick said, his voice so soft, so fond, even as Louis’ hips pumped, erratic now, his whole body shaking as it took its pleasure against those fucking boots. 

Nick’s thumb was pressing against the underside of Louis’ jaw now, tracing down to his throat where his cock had slipped, feeling the head of it against Louis’ skin. 

The sensitive underside of Louis’ cock caught against a fold in the material just as Nick yanked his hair, pulling out of his throat. “My needy boy,” Nick murmured as he met Louis’ eyes and that was enough. The heat that had been pulling tight the muscles of his abs, his groin, his ass, released and he came in thick pulses over Nick’s boots. 

“Christ, christ, christ,” Nick chanted, his own hand on his cock, stripping it fast, his eyes darting over Louis’ convulsing body, his tear-slicked face, the lips Louis knew were raw and plump.

Nick came a moment later, on Louis’ face, his come landing on Louis’ cheek, on his mouth. 

Immediately, Nick dropped to a crouch surprisingly graceful in his heels and caught Louis’ mouth in a fierce kiss, his come on both their tongues, so that Louis could taste Nick, could taste their passion. 

“You were perfect, baby, so perfect,” Nick whispered, placing soft pecks to Louis’ temples. “So perfect.”

Louis nodded, feeling a bit out of it, floaty and happy and calm. “Sleep?”

“Yeah, baby,” Nick said, his warm hands all over Louis’ body. It didn’t feel sexual though. Rather, loving, reassuring. “Let’s just get you cleaned up then I’m taking you home okay?”

“With. you,” Louis managed, his throat sore, his words sluggish.

Nick laughed. “Yeah, baby. If you think I’m ever letting you go now, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Louis smiled and then let himself be dressed. 

He giggled when Nick tried to clean the spunk off his boots, only giggling harder when Nick lobbed the wet paper towel at him, complaining about how much the things cost.

Instead of full on laughing like he did when it was faked, Nick’s eyes crinkled and his mouth tugged down, and Louis couldn’t resist pulling him in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! hope you liked it :) here's[ the fic post if you're interested. ](https://starsontheceilingfics.tumblr.com/post/176426456842/these-boots-were-made-for-walking-tomlinshaw)


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